|Jackson||Artesia. It was a bleak wreck of what it had been in centuries past. The city was a shambling shadow of it's former industrious self, and what remained was a testament of what had existed in a more peaceful time.
It was a chilly night, and the wind howled around the group as they gazed upon the outskirts of the now destroyed, crumbling infrastructure of Artesia. The EDSD had been receiving reports of caravans being harassed by raiders as they travelled through this shithole of a place.
Deputy Jackson Parkes took it upon himself to gather up a group of volunteers, who had all agreed to meet on the ground they now stood in order to investigate the crime scene of the last incident which had occurred. On a narrow road between the husks of two crumbling stone buildings, the group gathered to discuss their plans for the night's operation. The street they stood upon was coated in scattered rubble, abandoned, rusted husks of old Corvegas and Station Wagons, and a multitude of dust and grime which had built up over an eternity of neglect.
Each member of the group had been given what intel the Department had at it's disposal to assist them in tracking down the raiders. The location of the majority of the raids happened about two blocks ahead of where they now stood, across the street from an old, beaten down gas station who's roof caved in when the bombs dropped. But for now, the group had arrived, and it was time to rock and roll.
Jackson stood patiently as the rest of the group approached, thinking carefully about how he was going to introduce himself to the strangers. He'd approved the requests that came in out of necessity. He hadn't heard about all of them, but he was happy to know that there were at least a few familiar faces coming along for the ride. After the others arrived, he'd give them everything he knew. He didn't fancy himself much of a leader, but he reckoned that it couldn't be all that difficult. He was a charismatic guy. If nothing else, he could definitely lead by example.
As the faces piled in, Jackson cleared his throat, nodded confidently toward the volunteers, and spoke calmly and quietly. "Howdy all. Mind takin' a moment to introduce yourselves? Figure we best get to know each other for a minute before we start bringin' down the law, if ya' know what i'm sayin'. I appreciate knowin' who i'm shootin' with. After we get a few names to work with, then I'll drop the details on ya'. Sound alright to ya'll?"
The young deputy's disposition was the definition of casual as he stood in front of them all. His hands were tucked idly into his pockets, his jacket was unbuttoned, and he seemed as though he was completely comfortable in the wreckage of Artesia. As soon as he knew what he was working with, he'd be ready to bring down the law. And with that thought in mind, a smile lit up on Jackson's face as he waited for his group's response.
|Rusty||Once again, there is the presence of the old Desert Ranger in the black armor. The difference being old NCR rockers were sewn onto the lapel of a beaten duster this time around. Yet like before, the badge of a Deputy Marshall pinned in place. Before he speaks up at introductions, his right hand drops down to check his revolver. Then it rises to resettle the service rifle slung along his back on the duster. A good look towards the two blocks ahead where the headaches will rise. Finally the red lenses of his helmet turns towards Jackson, and the helmet vox crackles to life. "Rusty Wayne. Deputy Marshal, El Dorado."|
|Roman Ruane||Roman Raune is not the sort to just show his face up at this momment in time, but here the man was, currently fiddling with what appears to be a broken hunk of electronics in one hand, a pair of pliers in the other, carefully examining things before he makes his way towards Prism, there is a blank stare at first s he listens to people.. before he looks back behind Prism and then towards Rusty and gives a heavy sigh.
"More law enforcement? Likley will shoot first. Probably increase danger levels to unprecedented amounts." Roman observes even as the sounds of jet exhausts and the clank of metal footsteps betray the approaching presence of two robots soon moving into position behind Roman as he turns to stash the odd bits of electric components in one of the bins hanging off the 6 legged robot at his side.
|Nemo||Wearing a dusty poncho and cowboy hat, both splattered with old blood, Nemo Booker paints a different picture at night. His tall, dark figure and grease covered everything makes him blend in. He's arrived with another scientist, sent as part of outreach on behalf of the Scientists of El Dorado, but he looks like a dirty, stinking bandit, literally. There's a rifle slung on his back.
After Eden speaks, he nods, "Qwillis sent me, too. Nemo Booker, fighter, mechanic, and problem solver." Looking to Roman, Nemo points out, "You didn't introduce yourself, and if they've got a stealth mode, activate it."
|Eden||Eden nods and says "Eden Frye, mechanic, mainly" She supposed that is what he is looking for in the introduction. nothing fancy, just main skill set. "I can shoot a bit too, and have been learning science from Qwillis." She adds after thinking a moment. "Happy to help in anyway i can."|
|Jackson||The group seemed capable, if nothing else. More capable then he expected, but Jackson certainly had no room to complain about having competent comrades to back up the investigation. As they each introduced themselves, the deputy listened carefully, appraising each of their appearances before introducing himself.
"I'm Deputy Jackson Parkes. I fancy myself a bit of a detective, or a problem solver. If at all possible, I try to avoid killing if I can. Not much for the whole police brutality gimmick myself. Naw, I'm a bit more neutral than that. Now, give me a reason to, that's a different story." He paused for a moment after his brief introduction, then cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders before continuing.
"The reports the department recieved were relatively straightforward. Caravaners and scavenging groups travelling through this particular section of Artesia have been harassed by an awful lot of raiders. The violent, chem-rattled sort. Most commonly reported location is two blocks down this street. We'll be coming up to a four way intersection with a beat down gas station, a bar, and an old office building. The remains of the caravan that last tried to roll through these parts is in the middle of the intersection down there, and we need to check the surrounding area out. Should see if we can find a trace or trail of those raiders heading around. I'm just going off of the report here though, I haven't scouted down that way myself quite yet. Any volunteers for a scouting run to make sure the street's clear?"
|Rusty||"Only one sentance for a raider." Crackles the helmet vox. Rusty is clearly such a friendly bastard. The red lenses look from side to side, studying current terrain, and then with a head tilt looks ahead. Gloved fingers drum briefly along his gunbelt. At the mention of scouting and ambush, the lenses look from side to side at the others. His shoulders rise and fall so slightly it may be someones eyes playing tricks. The vox crackles again. "Can scout."|
|Nemo||Nemo listens to Jacksen, bobbing his head, as he unslings his rifle to peer through the scope down at the caravan's wreckage. After a bit of squinting, he lowers the gun, but keeps it handy, telling Rusty, "Alright, if you're volunteering." He digs into his pocket, and pulls out a Mentat, popping it.|
|Jackson||As Rusty volunteered, Jackson took a moment to note whether or not any of the group would object to the idea of a brief scouting mission. As nobody spoke up, Jackson nodded toward Rusty in the affirmative, and pointed toward the downward sloping street before them. "Just try to keep it quiet, we'll wait for you to return before moving forward." As the ranger moved to depart on his scouting mission, Jackson turned toward his other comrades-- specifically as one of them popped some chems. "Any other suggestions are greatly appreciated. I might be standing in front here, but I'm down with whatever we have to do to get the job done. I'm no authoritarian."|
|Roman Ruane||Roman for his part doesn't move much from his spot nearby the edge of the group. The sounds of his robots carefully hoveringa nd stopping around to go loot through the husk or two of a building or the rubble nearby as Roman doesn't move much, just watching with his arms crossed over his chest. "Cannot turn off locomotion for the Handy unit. Not in design parameters, given that the engine powering the thruster is required for the models continued operation." Roman observes even as he doesn't move towards where the raiders are likley at. Best to stay back.|
|Rusty|| With hardly a sound, Rusty shows how he'd earned a Veteran Ranger tab. Nice and quiet, no rush, yet not exactly tryng to move at speed of snail. Shifting from shadow, to depression, through and around debris, the Deputy Marshal is able to make his scout run. He is not gone long before returning to the group, essentially just as silently appearing amongst them with a sudden growl through his helmet vox.
"Raiders confirmed. Visibility was shit. Carts cleaned out. Three traders dead, mutilated. Brahmen dead." Rusty pauses for a second, the red lenses once more looking to each in turn before continuing with a crackle of static. "Shitbags look holed up in gas station, here." Rusty traces a quick dirt map and points to the station. "Bar here across street. Perfect spot to fire away. Cover. Crossing fire. Away from potential gas boom." His cleared throat gives sign he's talked to much. "Aside from 'kill them all'., plan?"
|Nemo||Nemo watches for Rusty, leaning down and studying the map that he draws when he returns. When a glint catches his sight, he makes sure to point out the man in the second story window discreetly, "Everyone got eyes on the bogie? I'm gonna go to the store across the street, see if I can't keep him from sniping one of y'all, and get in a good position to lay down cover if need be." He glances around, "Anyone want any psycho for this?" He's already pulling some out, passing "Just one, y'all" to each person who asks for it.|
|Roman Ruane||Roman just shakes his head even as he moves to approach some of the rubble off to the side of the street to take cover for the time being, his robotic minions milling about further back down the street even as he grunts under his breath, moving to carefully slide out the magazine of his pistol, taking a look over it before reloading and peeking back up at the window for the time being before shrugging. Not moving for the time being, but instead watching and awiting.|
|Jackson||As Rusty returned and informed the group as to his discovery, Jackson nodded in the affirmative. There was no immediate indication of an army of hostiles lying in wait for them, so to the deputy's ears, that was a posetive thing. However, the news of the mutilated caravaners made his blood boil. They would have to be sure to give the folks a proper burial after all of this was said and done. Or, at the very least, allow their remains to be taken back to their families. What was left of them, anyway.
The young deputy tightened his jaw at the thought of the massacred innocents, but knew he hadn't the time to reflect on such things. It was time to act, and act was exactly what they would do. Rusty's proposal of a cross fire wasn't a bad idea, if his hastily scrawled map was any indicator, anyway. Jackson definitely wasn't adverse to the thought of having a sniper watching their backs through the battle either. The safer, the better. Their other companions didn't have much to say, but he couldn't really blame them. Things were looking pretty cut and dry-- at least, they were to the deputy. As his companions finished their discussion, Jack spoke up himself.
"Alright, so as long as there's no objections. We'll move up and take our positions. If the raiders arereally holed up inside of that gas station, we'll take care of them, and look a little bit closer at the crime scene to make sure there's nothing else we missed."
|Nemo||Nemo bobs his head, beckoning to Eden protectively, "Why don't you stick with me? I could use the help, in case I encounter trouble inside, yeah?" That's all it takes for him to slip off towards the store, hoping to find roof access from the inside, or if nothing else a ladder at the back. The rifle get's slung over his shoulder, and he draws his revolver, moving quietly inside the old store.|
|Rusty||"Tracks lead right from bodies to station." Is the slight grumble from the vox. Regardless, Rusty draws out his service rifle, and begins to make his way ahead once more. Silently, moving with a purpose. Until he is finally able to slip into the bar for cover and set up his aim at the gas station.|
|Roman Ruane||Roman will take a momment to double check things before he moves to follow Rusty more than anything, moving slowly, the pair of robuts behind him some distance away, meandering their way along as they pick things overi n the rubble, eye stals of both occasionally lifting to double check Roman's position and scurry a bit closer to the man, but otherwise, Roman just is trying to slink along, and his robots try not to call too much attention to his position. Not too much anyway.|
|Jackson||As their discussion came to a close, Jackson moved purposefully alongside the former NCR ranger, keeping his body anchored low to the ground and his eyes vigilant as they moved down the silent streets. There was debris everywhere-- knocked over dumpsters, flipped cars, rusted out vehicle chassis, and everything in between as they travelled. But still, all was quiet. As they reached the bar, Jackson made his way carefully inside, and posted himself up against the corner of one of the two empty windowframes near the front door. They stretched along the length of the wall, and there was plenty of room to duck below the frame for cover if one needed to. Aside from that, the bar was a total wreck-- flipped, broken furniture, broken glass everywhere, a real scavenging hot spot, if one decided to dig deep enough.
The store that Nemo found himself tearing through was of a similar disposition. Items thrown all over the place, shelves knocked over, cash registers sparking and smoking in disrepair. It was a total mess. But indeed, the roof access was there, and unlocked at that. A short stairwell upward and the sniper would find himself a pleasant perch to watch the intersection. As the group took their respective positions, they waited calmly for a few moments for the raiders to indicate their presence.
Jackson was idly considering whether or not it'd be a good idea to try to lure them out somehow when something finally caught his eye. The gas station across the street from the bar and the store looked like it was half-falling over. The raiders did little more than board up the windows with scrap metal, but they all seemed to have a sliding apparatus of sorts to allow them to look out of the windows. As Jackson observed, the small window opened up, and out popped a man with a pirate's hat made of bright red foam.
As soon as the man's head popped out, a stream of vomit immediatly began to poor out of him. Apparently, the raiders had been busy. As he attempted to pull himself back into the window, he fell out of it, slamming down onto the concrete of the parking lot with an audible 'UMPH!'. Soon afterward, the man propped himself back up... Only to meet eyes with Jackson as the deputy watched the man stumble to his feet.
Only the briefest instant of silence passed between the onlookers and the raider before he let out an ear-shrieking scream of surprise which echoed around the intersection. His comrades followed in force-- it took only a few seconds for a large group of raiders, numbering at least 12, wielding a variety of weaponry to pour out and begin howling for blood. Strangely enough, they were all dressed up in odd costumes of sorts. Some wore white sheets with eye holes cut out, others wore strange, multi-colored foam pirate hats, and others wore strange plastic masks which depicted a variety of twisted images upon them. Some took it a step further, decorating themselves in what appeared to be human skulls, bones, and blood. One thing was to be sure-- they had a fight ahead of them.
|Roman Ruane||Roman Raune just takes the time as the group bursts forward to carefully check the slide rail of his gun, aim down the sights for a second before he flicks his wrist quickly and offers quickly. "Would recommend putting down weapons or dieing. Outnumbered, perhaps, but this is leading to overconfidence, and will likley result in your death." As he offers this last token note, he'll pull the trigger four times in quick succession, aiming his weapon towards the ghosts as they approach and four shots ring out.
The six legged scorpion type creature with an arm that is more a claw and a laser.. is soon peeking up over the rubble the robot is hiding behind and taking a series of two shots, laser beams streaking out across the sky. The Mr. Handy? Flying closer to Roman.
All in all, the amount of lead and energy being thrown around takees down 3 ghostly pirates in a bloody mess.
|Rusty||Having seen the mutilated bodies, dead brahmin, and an empty trader cart... Rusty has all the evidence he needed. There's no call outloud, Roman took care of that. Just the red lenses flaring to brighter life. A rapidly shifting service rifle that plucks out two targets. With two quick barks of authority, the service rifle drops two pirates.|
|Nemo||Nemo takes a hit of his psycho, crouching down on the edge of of the store building when he hears that loud scream. He's peeking up and over the edge in a moment, firing a shot too quickly, before he finds his target, raider near the back. A loud report rings out, and he ducks down, pulls the bolt, and pops back up, firing again.|
|Jackson||Everything went up in gunfire without an instant passing by. Before Jackson could so much as ready his weapon, Roman's machine absolutely slaughtered one of the ghosts, whilst roman himself dealt the finishing blow to another two with effortless pulls of his pistol's trigger. To his left, Rusty unleashed a barrage of service rifle fire that knocked down an idditional two pirates, and deftly avoided a barrage of oncoming attacks. The young deputy readied his own weapon as the signature 'CRACK!' of a sniper rifle rang out through the intersection, and one of the ghosts began to look a hell of a lot more red than white. Without another moment of hesitation, Jack pulled his rifle off of his back and fired twice. His first shot went wide, but the second buried itself into a pirate's chest as they gradually organized themselves into a more cohesive front. He readied his weapon for the next volley, and grit his teeth in determination as the enemy continued it's advance.|
|Roman Ruane||And here is Roman raune, still shooting away with his small handgun, four more bullets, once more finding their mark as he just quickly twitchis and snaps his wrist back and forth to take shots at the approaching pirates. The dreaded roboscorpi-no wait, Protoscorpion still taking laser potshots at the ghosts as well.
Except now there were no more ghosts.. and Roman is left with a smoking gun.
|Rusty||Sadly, this is not the worst Rusty has been out numbered this week. His sights sift, only to freeze at a clatter to his side. Smoothly, though rapidly, those sights traverse to snap onto the one charging into the building. There's no mercy for a raider bringing a lead pipe to a gunfight. A squeeze of the trigger and the charger is down. Whipping sights back out ahead, there is a muffled curse as one is just able to duck down in time before Rusty can turn the raiders head into a canue.|
|Nemo||Nemo watches the fight unfold, hyped up and screaming now, "Yeeeaaah!!!" He fires off two shots, one of them wild and far off, shattering some glass, but the first hitting hard and exiting through a Pirate's torso with a spray of blood.|
|Roman Ruane||Roman, noting that the rest of the group seems to have things handled.. and- Oh shit hit the deck! The shotgun blast ahs the man nearly fall flat on his ass even as he lifts up and aims his Berretta with both hands and takes a couple of shots once more, this time at the few remaining straggler pirates as he grunts under his breath.
Lasers ping everywhere as well, robots being all roboty and stuff. "Dangrous, should in the future make sure to find ample cover before hand. Shotgun pellets difficult to remove. Slug.. ruin the organ.."
|Rusty||It was all going so well. Then the shotgun blasts, and there is a grunt from Rusty. Clearly biting off sounds of pain, Rusty forces himself upright, one hand slaps against the wound on his thigh. His other levels the service rifle, though the barrel wavers slightly. It is clear it's not the man's first rodeo or injury.|
|Jackson||In a fog of brass and superheated laser, the bandits, which were once numerous, fell easily to the band of rag-tag volunteers. As things cleared up, the group moved forward to explore the remains of the raiders, and confirm that indeed, all oft hem had been killed. As they checked over the remains, the silouette which had been watching over them all slowly crept away from it's perch in the window, slinking into the shadows to report back to his masters. As the group moved forward to search what remained of the raiders' rag-tag outpost, they found a functioning terminal with a password lock on it.|
|Jackson||The files within the terminal reveal that this was merely a hastily arranged outpost for this group of raiders. What Jackson thought was the whole of the gang, was merely an offshoot of a larger operations. Witht heir outpost disrupted and the bodies of the raiders bleeding into the cement, it was unclear to the group whether or not they would seek out revenge or not. Thinking it'd be best if they didn't take their chances, the group said their goodbyes and parted ways back toward their respective homefronts.|